AT THE brink of the twenty-first century, foreign language departments are beginning to recognize the value of having a competent language program director (LPD) head up their undergraduate language programs. These days we see an unmistakable increase in the number of these positions advertised in the MLA Job Information List , and quite often the lines are posted as tenure-track. Specialists in applied linguistics are similarly sought out to direct language programs. But why the sudden change of heart from universities or departments who might have once looked down their noses at such outcasts? Perhaps it is due to the well-known but often neglected truth that the first two years of language classes are the cash cow of nearly all undergraduate foreign language departments (Berman 41). Not only do these high-capacity classes provide budgetary sustenance for departments, they also feed students into upper-level literature or culture courses. In extreme cases, for instance, at colleges or universities that aspire to a pragmatically oriented, output-based fiscal allocation, the FL program justifies the existence of the department. Thus, it is understandable that foreign language departments are beginning to appreciate the worth of a solid undergraduate language program. By solid, we mean one that attracts and retains students with its quality instruction, and perhaps also with its curricular innovations, and one that helps students attain an impressive level of proficiency, inspiring further exploration of the target culture and literature.
Yet while the demand for good language program directors increases, the challenges facing them do not diminish. To be sure, the primary challenge in running a successful language program is coping with the high level of responsibility demanded of an individual program director, which goes above and beyond what is expected of even the typically overtaxed junior faculty members of today. In addition to running the program, LPDs are normally expected to train graduate instructors and continue their own scholarly pursuits—two integral parts of keeping the language program strong and their chances for tenure high. This extra burden would not pose such a problem if the amount of respect for this position were equally great. As is echoed in professional journals and other forums, language teaching specialists, and by extension LPDs, stand on the lowest rung of the academic ladder.
The low status of language program directors is reflected in an outdated system that continues to base its assessment of all faculty achievement on the same standards for tenure and promotion regardless of ever-changing job descriptions. Put more directly, departments still strongly resist adjusting the faculty reward system to reflect the additional duties and responsibilities of the LPD. Although currently a hot topic for debate in a professional forum, this unbalanced state of affairs is not likely to change soon. The challenge facing language teaching specialists is, therefore, to discover how to manage within the system rather than calculate how to change it.
Considering that many LPD positions are for junior faculty members, the workload itself presents another challenge, since few LPDs receive adequate preparation for such duties during their graduate careers. Indeed, despite increasing attention to professional development in graduate programs, research skills still receive the primary stress, leaving new LPDs at a loss for other skills necessary to design and run a thriving language program. True, these new appointees arrive from graduate school with the latest training in methodology, insight into innovative curricular ideas, and skills in the most recent technological discoveries. However, they arrive in programs that have been in existence for years—often decades—and they often come up against resistance to change on the part of their older, more experienced colleagues.
Why would any recent PhD take on this job with such a list of daunting challenges? Unquestionably, the challenges are great, but the rewards can be plentiful. Filling the shoes of both junior faculty member and high-profile administrator creates a higher level of stress, but it also gives entry-level professors the opportunity to shape their programs from the ground up. With these challenges in mind, we offer here the perspective of two “insiders” who have survived the leap from graduate student to language program director, outlining the most significant and universal issues facing a new LPD and providing insight into balancing the demands of the position with the necessity of developing a professional profile.
We can identify several reasons why language program direction is particularly difficult for a junior faculty member, one who has not yet had the opportunity to establish a reputation for scholarship and teaching. There is a general lack of prestige associated with endeavors such as coordinating teachers, which can be seen as a managerial task devoid of critical thought or innovation. It may also be an overwhelming task to develop a coherent pedagogical approach in a department with plenty of well-established teachers, some with intimidating seniority compared with the experience of a new hire. A language program director frequently faces a job that has been ill-defined, that may be controversial in its implication of upcoming change or systematization, and that requires a component of gradual enlightenment in order to gain collegial support. Specifically, the new LPD faces the following strains: traditional notions of teaching as a low-prestige occupation; an institutional and departmental culture that relegates teaching concerns to lower-level language instruction; and the necessity of defining one's job through hands-on accomplishments while coordinating reluctant colleagues. In the end it is the unspoken responsibility of the LPD to make a convincing case for the significance of language program direction.
In first facing the status of teaching in the department's mission, the LPD must be aware of preexisting attitudes toward teaching itself. The LPD, responsible for setting standards for pedagogical effectiveness, must somehow emphasize practices like reflective teaching, as well as access the broader context of professional interests. Often-times teaching is thought of on its most basic level: planning, organizing, managing, and evaluating courses and designing courses to suit our research interests and experience. It is only within a broadly defined context, however, that teachers are thought of as participants in professional forums, developers of curriculum, and readers and even developers of research. In part, this disjuncture between perceptions of teaching as experientially based and theory as universally relevant, with prescriptive power, solidifies the minimal prestige of teaching. Given the constraints on time, material and staffing resources, and funding or appropriate institutional support, teachers are not often able to engage as actively in research on pedagogical and educational issues as some colleagues in “theoretical” disciplines. Even so, such an entrenched, perpetuated notion of a divide between those who teach and those who research is counterproductive to both sides.
The perception of teachers as isolated practitioners denies their inherent bridging function between theory and practice and their instrumental role in forging new pedagogical approaches to test that emerging theory and subsequently revise it. In view of increasingly rigorous guidelines for teacher education (see the ACTFL Provisional Program Guidelines for Teacher Education [Guntermann 213–27]), June Phillips calls for greater participation by teachers as both consumers and initiators of research and particularly as testers of the new standards established by the National Standards in Foreign Language Education Project. In real classroom contexts, teachers are the interpreters of theoretical constructs such as “target language culture” and “interdisciplinarity” and the determiners of “building connections” and “communities.” It is precisely this complexity of interpretation that begs for more than just familiarity with current research. It implies a conscious synthesis of theory and notions by individual teachers to address the connections between learner as processor, teacher as modeler, and curriculum as valid framework. In the current paradigm emphasizing learner-centeredness, reflective teaching, implementation of standards, and the rethinking of traditional notions of culture, teachers must play an active role in follow-through investigation, reflecting on “received [academic] knowledge” in the light of “experiential knowledge” and “reconstituting” theory through such application (Smith and Rawley 28).
Although this split between theory and practice accounts for some of the low prestige afforded teaching as a profession, there are more insidious rifts within the foreign language department itself, for example, among teachers of “language” or lower-level courses and those who consider themselves exempt from that responsibility. In an article on curricular strife within language departments, Elizabeth Bernhardt describes in blatant terms the “two distinct curricula” within the typical language department (language vs. literature) and notes that each has its own set of objectives, materials, and even faculty resources in some institutions (13). Russell Berman similarly bemoans the typical “assertion of the primacy of literary study and the corollary denigration of language teaching …” (42). This regrettable state of affairs is not coincidental to the continued perception of language teaching as somehow separate and less valued than literary and culture-oriented courses. Thus the coordinator of language courses is, by extension, trapped in this widespread perception.
The preexisting climate in the profession at large, and in the institution and department, may reinforce a generally negative impression of the LPD as a mere “manager” of language teachers and language courses, not as a scholar of highly regarded theoretical work, a curricular innovator, or a practitioner of any specific discipline. On the professional, institutional, and departmental levels, the respect afforded other discipline-based positions of expertise simply does not obtain for this position. What can new LPDs do amid such beliefs, agendas, and assumptions? There are individual initiatives directors can undertake to favorably influence how others see their work (exerting “spin control”). Such proactive initiatives include negotiating with disparate voices on the teaching staff, promoting one's own perceived strength vis-à-vis research and scholarship, and establishing support from others in similar positions.
Mediating between members of the teaching staff, particularly when one is new to a department, can be tricky but also rewarding. Balancing perspectives on teaching and opinions on materials to fit certain courses is only the most apparent task; the differences in teachers' personalities, work styles, and pedagogical convictions may be even more disparate and untouchable. Since program direction requires instilling notions such as teamwork and open discussion, diplomacy and confidentiality are crucial to any director's mode of operation. And because LPDs act as an interface between students, faculty members, and the adjunct teaching staff, the need for patience and excellent listening skills cannot be overstated. Ultimately, the LPD must have a sense of purpose and an eye on long-term accomplishment to keep those individual concerns in reasonable perspective. At the same time, a consistent projection of one's own leadership can be especially difficult, though necessary, from the beginning. James Lee, Donna Binkowski, and Alex Binkowski have stated, “It is abundantly evident that one person cannot design, implement, and administer a language program” (227). In reality, the LPD may do all those things, but with assistance and cooperation in sharing responsibilities.
With this situation in mind, the LPD must project a strong image as the source from which innovation and ultimate responsibility emanate. This feat requires broad-based initiatives within the department itself (the setting up of regular coordination meetings, peer observation, curricular discussions and colloquiums, TA training and method courses, workshops, etc.) and a solid projection of purpose beyond the department. To achieve such a goal, the LPD must maintain an outward focus toward like-minded colleagues elsewhere and a somewhat selfish inward focus to protect a balance of professional identities.
The scope of support needed, then, expands to the institution and to other colleagues in the field to prevent isolation and imbalance. We speak here specifically of (1) administrative support in the form of grant money, sabbaticals for junior faculty members, and dedicated space and resources for data collection; (2) research assistants to help with the workload; and (3) conscious connections to others who can give advice and provide long-term support. For example, connecting with other LPDs can help in establishing realistic goals and time lines for programmatic objectives and will certainly decrease a sense of isolation. Perhaps more important, however, it is critical to connect with colleagues with similar research interests in order to strengthen one's own identity as a scholar and to seek opportunities for feedback and collaborative work. LPDs can lose track of their scholarship and research precisely because of this additional administrative responsibility, aggravated by the typical lack of institutional support, but also because of sheer expenditures of time and energy on the urgent tasks at hand. As we have discovered, it often seems that the LPD is expected to be all things to colleagues and students, while taking care to forcefully pursue a research agenda. Such work is critical for reasons of professional image (as noted previously) and ultimately for job survival. The perception of oneself is closely tied to the perception of others, in a somewhat circular fashion: the more one exudes an image of leadership, active research, and expending connections, the more one is judged so and the more one's own sense of priorities evolves and becomes stronger.
The last decade has brought much discussion on how tenure expectations for junior faculty members overall have changed. We have seen that more research is required of today's tenure hopefuls than ever before. For the LPD there is the added uncertainty about how the role of program direction fits into the tenure-track trinity of teaching, service, and scholarship.
A growth in tenure-track positions for FL program directors compels the field to address the ethical issue of their tenable tenurability within the standard university tenure and promotion system. To be sure, we have reason to celebrate here: an increase in tenure-track positions for LPDs brings with it several advantages. First, tenure-trackability lends potential prestige to a long ill-respected post. To some, a tenure-track faculty member might be considered a colleague on more equal footing than a full-time language instructor might be. Second, tenure-track faculty members often have more opportunity to obtain support and time for research. Moreover, foreign language teaching methodologists and second language acquisition specialists in tenure-track positions can pursue research that would be less feasible for instructors or non-tenure-track coordinators because of heavy teaching loads. Yet many questions remain about how new LPDs will be judged for their additional, specific duties as directors of language programs. For instance, should the training and supervision of TAs “count” as service or teaching? Or should a fourth category be added to account for these extra responsibilities for which the LPD was hired?
Unfortunately, the lack of a consensus on how to give credit for this added work often leads to a hasty solution that belies the importance of the LPD's contributions to the department and institution. The current tenure mind-set has not yet made adjustments for the LPD's particular position, which carries with it quite different demands from those of the customary junior faculty member's tenure-track job. Comparing the LPD with the department chair, Beverly Harris-Schenz describes the LPD as a “denigrated bureaucrat” who has not had time to set up a research agenda, unlike the chair who is established academically and does not suffer in reputation for the administrative position (47). At some institutions, program directors receive chairlike compensation for their additional workload, for example, a course release or salary increase. Another approach is to grant additional credit (in some cases “merit points”) for service to the university. This proposal, though initially appealing, nevertheless puts the focus on the least esteemed portion of the now hierarchical trio of research, teaching, and service (MLA Commission 161).
The profession has not remained silent in this debate on extant tenure guidelines. Several years ago, the MLA Executive Council set up the Commission on Professional Service to explore the ways universities typically classify, judge, and reward faculty members (161). The commission aimed to examine primarily the service prong of the triangle, observing that service has become the awkward and uncertain category used to denote any faculty work that cannot be neatly classified as teaching or research. “Classification predetermines the benefits and values the work is allowed to claim, so that to name an activity service rules out a priori the possibility that it has substantive idea content and significance” (171). The commission's investigation led to a reevaluation of the entire tenure system, based on the “need to make visible and therefore reconsider the value of what has been tacit or disregarded” within the faculty reward system (170). Specifically, the commission discovered that “there is no place in the conventional system for recognizing and rewarding faculty members who serve with distinction as program directors or department chairs” (170–71). It therefore proposed augmented conceptions of the traditional triad in order to emphasize the quality, significance, and effect of faculty work, as opposed to merely categorizing the work into one of the three areas. One example from the commission's revised system for tenure and promotion shows how a mere reconceptualization of job responsibilities would benefit the LPD's tenure case: a broadened conception of teaching comprises activities that enrich student learning and promote better teaching. Thus, in the LPD's file, TA training would count toward teaching instead of being thrown into the obscure category of service.
Many LPDs face the additional potential dilemma that their colleagues or institutions may not view publications in foreign language pedagogy as scholarly and worthy of tenure or promotion (Harris-Schenz 47). This issue is closely related to the discussion of the LPD as a specialist in teaching, a position rated less scholarly and thus less tenure-worthy. We cannot resolve this issue here, since such judgments are based on subjective criteria that vary at each institution (Jarvis 33). Strangely enough, LPDs' specialization may serve as an inadvertent strike against them in a setting geared toward literary studies or among colleagues with less familiarity about the LPD's specific discipline. Thus, at most universities tenure and promotion requirements for LPDs are as yet uncharted territory, and the LPD must assume responsibility for discovering specifically what guidelines and expectations exist—or need to be drafted—for the position of coordinator. Presumably the requirements and evaluation for teaching and research will mirror those of other colleagues. It is essential, however, that LPDs request early on a specific description of the administrative responsibilities and the terms by which effectiveness will be measured. In other words, how frequently and on what basis will performance be evaluated? Who will be responsible for the evaluation? The LPD may be in a position to make suggestions if this mechanism is not in place, bolstering his or her case with evaluative surveys, letters of support from the teaching staff, and outside observation of coordination meetings. Evaluation may come officially from the chair, a position that is likely to change hands over the course of the LPD's first five years; therefore, the procedure for evaluation should be as specific and objective as possible and should outline the LPD's role in gathering documentation for her or his own file.
Given the breadth of responsibility and the urgent need to prioritize, long-term planning could help prevent overwhelming frustration. Heidi Byrnes recommends that new faculty members develop extended career plans that also include specific, realistic intermediate goals reflecting the institution's culture (17–18). The need for such strategizing is rarely discussed, except in private talks with colleagues who often unwittingly employ a discomforting tone. Unless LPDs specifically map descriptions of duties and procedures for evaluation, their sense of accomplishment and recognition will seem intangible and their efforts misguided. Such insecurity can be avoided if the requirements and methods of assessment are spelled out from the start.
Establishing leadership and presence and defining the expectations for one's job are the basis for what are ultimately the LPD's most significant and most daunting tasks: assessing the curriculum as it stands and taking responsibility for needed changes. These endeavors are essential for a number of reasons; most obviously, fleeting enrollments demand a serious look at program relevance, though curricular innovation may only ameliorate the inevitable swings in language enrollments due to world events, market forces in the business world, and so on. Even so, program relevance for students is critical for maintaining a base “clientele.” A more profound concern is the lack of emphasis on teaching as relevant and central to the departmental mission. As noted, there are probably a priori notions of literature and language as somewhat separate, and there are possible unfriendly divides within the faculty concerning who is responsible for which aspect of the department's mission. It is the LPD's job, as much as possible, to unify the teaching staff toward building an integrated, coherent curriculum that reaches through all levels, with obvious objectives at each stage for developing skills, fluency, and knowledge. Such curricular development relies to some extent on pedagogical consciousness raising, a term one needn't publicize but whose idea is at the root of engendering support in terms of time and effort from others.
First and foremost one faces the attitudes mentioned on both the departmental and the institutional levels toward teaching and toward language teaching in particular. Such attitudes are unlikely to change, since institutions continue to see language as a tool (Bernhardt 14), as service for other academic or professional pursuits. Similarly, they continue to disagree about the significance (or desirability) of sequenced instruction, much less the incorporation of more enlightened approaches to the lower-level curriculum (Bernhardt 14–16). Lack of such resolution means that content continues to be sacrificed or postponed until such fluency is presumably attained, as if explicit knowledge of structure should precede study of the literary, cultural, historical, and social richness of the target language. This dichotomy plays itself out in the following unfortunate ways: lower-level instruction is often devoid of the very richness inherent in studying another language and culture, and upper-level instruction is similarly conceived of as functionally vacuous and somehow absolved of accountability or “public scrutiny” (Bernhardt 15). These attitudes may be dissuaded only through a focused curricular plan, based on several persuasive arguments. First, the LPD is the most prominent observer of the current state of affairs, that is, of what is working well and what isn't. Such observations should be couched in proactive ideas for pedagogical improvement, for the sake of teaching effectiveness and learner interest, beyond single courses or instructors. Second, a curriculum that unifies language and content is the obvious way to build bridges between those potentially divisive strains on the teaching staff and to build long-term support in terms of student enrollment, based on overall coherence and program relevance.
We speak here of long-term program development that is grounded by articulation , the idea that a curriculum must be logically sequenced as a continuum of learning, with logical exit points along the way, and clearly defined learning objectives throughout. An articulated program specifies functionally and intellectually rich course content through sequenced levels of the entire program. Curriculum, in such a model, is a process , which does not allow a view of literature courses as primarily created by (and in a certain sense serving) each individual instructor. Nor does it tolerate language course content as defined by any given textbook. An articulated program provides a realistic yet stimulating progression of critically selected, tailored materials, emphasizing the active engagement of both student and teacher. As Patricia Chaput writes, “One of the most useful questions we can ask is what we want students to have to show at the conclusion of their program of study. We need to ask this question not about individual courses, but about an entire program, and we must ask it at typical exit points from that program” (31). According to her argument, departments need a “backward planning” model in which ultimate objectives should be traced backward in the sequence, to determine how exactly the student will get there. In other words, what oral and written discourse needs to be in place? Which negotiating skills, what degree of structural and lexical fluency, and what content, based knowledge will be required? If one determines these objectives by “tracing” them throughout sequential levels (Chaput 13), not only will instructors know what to expect when they “inherit” a particular level but students will also have a sense of what they have accomplished as they look ahead to the next course. Moreover, if the program is to be methodologically coherent, teachers cannot view themselves as methodologically independent from the program, so that transitions between courses or course sections will not involve fundamental methodological shifts.
Finally, it is imprudent to assume that it takes only a well-articulated program with a solid curriculum merging content with language acquisition to attract and hold a student population in the department's courses. Even top programs in the country with celebrated curricular or instructional innovations are currently experiencing drops in enrollment. Although it is clear that no one person can be responsible for the success or failure of a program, as director of the language teachers and innovator of curriculum and articulation, the LPD provides an obvious scapegoat for the ebbs in language course enrollment. The LPD is expected to bear in mind the entire picture of the language program, which increasingly must focus on the consumers of our product. We look, then, to the students taking our courses: changing demographics in the United States have stimulated us as foreign language and literature educators to rethink both how and what we teach, as a result of considering whom we now teach. In other words, we have begun to recognize that our survival as a field depends on our adaptation not only of the curriculum but also of instruction to accommodate or reflect more closely the ever-changing population of students we find in our classrooms. The evolution evident in the student population over the past twenty years manifests itself in several ways, and as we see it, the changes relate to three general, overarching categories: where students come from (ethnic background, socioconomic status), where they are headed professionally (goals, pragmatic attitude), and how they want to get there (instructional methods, materials, and media).
As teachers, we find students with increasingly varied ethnic and socioeconomic backgrounds represented in our classes. How do these characteristics change how or what we teach? First and foremost, we recognize that the monocultural classroom is no longer the norm. Thus, in developing a curriculum, we cannot assume shared cultural background knowledge. A curriculum must address an ethnically diverse student body while building and maintaining a community of foreign language learners.
An additional challenge arises from the pragmatic orientation of students in the 1990s who tend to prioritize career goals over a liberal arts education. Such students often regard a college education as a training program of sorts, and this attitude in turn influences decisions about which FL to study and the perceived usefulness or practical benefit of such study. However, career-oriented students are not lost to us if we can furnish concrete examples of how learning a foreign language fits into such long-term plans. The LPD should acknowledge and address this concern by informing students of career opportunities involving the foreign language, thereby validating rather than contradicting the students' goals.
One of the best ways to connect students to the culture is to ensure that the curriculum incorporates up-to-date and authentic cultural information targeted to their needs and interests. According to Madeleine Lively, technological resources give us new ways to address student needs, such as making the foreign language more relevant and language learning more convenient to them (35). An interactive, technology-based approach is a necessary adjustment to the new genre of students, in a sense reaching them by speaking their language. In terms of topical interests for reading and discussion, every student body has its own profile and tastes. If the program director has taken the time to survey the student profile at the institution at large and within the department, relevant themes may be incorporated in the curriculum, thereby enhancing interest and potentially boosting enrollment. Like other faculty members, LPDs may be able to integrate course content with their own research interests, as long as they remain willing to reconceptualize courses to fit institutional and student needs. Katherine Arens cleverly describes three hypothetical professors who accomplish this goal with varying degrees of success. Her examples show how rethinking curricular projects and themes to fit popular student interests (both academic and extracurricular) is likely to lead to well-attended classes that are perceived as relevant. Arens stresses that faculty members should adjust to their new institution rather than expect the institution to adapt to their area of expertise: “In these tight times it will behoove each faculty member to be prepared to utilize the limited resources of the average college or university efficiently and consciously, not only to develop one's own professional profile, but also to enhance the student and colleague environment” (35). Thus, by remaining flexible in regard to course offerings, the LPD can contribute choice courses and hence win students for the program; in staying abreast of the institution's student profile, the LPD gains useful information to support curricular or instructional changes.
Curricular change, more than any other issue we outline here, requires consensus building and long-term planning. It takes time and relies on the confidence of others, grounded in the leadership and persuasiveness a program director must gradually cultivate. The stakes are high, as are the potential rewards if the program is strengthened by these efforts. Nonetheless, large-scale curricular change may not be feasible or advisable in the early stages of the position, since it demands pedagogical flexibility from the teaching staff, sensitivity to student populations, and tremendous time investment. It is another area that has not yet been clearly categorized for merit reward and may take precious time away from scholarly pursuits in the first critical years.
In our discussion we have proceeded in a sense chronologically, describing how the LPD must initially face preexisting attitudes and biases, quickly adapt to the existing system to establish leadership, and bring about positive change. Along the way, it is crucial to substantiate all initiative and progress, and to meet expectations for scholarship, while extending connections outside the department. This position requires us to think beyond our own agendas, to consider the significance of language instruction and program coherence for the institution and the discipline. And it is obvious that such a position provides unique opportunities for gathering data and writing research on language learning issues as well as program development. Nonetheless, we have developed a credo for survival to keep priorities in balance during the first years: (1) assess the situation, then develop plans for change; (2) keep records of all accomplishments; and (3) set limits on time and effort expended to each category for which you will be evaluated. It is not realistic to expect graduate school to prepare anyone for the challenges of program direction, since the position is essentially a process , to be learned through experience. We feel that the rewards are revealed in the same ways that priorities are developed: through patience, perspective, and planning.
Margaret Gonglewski is Assistant Professor of German and Language Program Director in the Department of German and Slavic at George Washington University. Alene Moyer is Assistant Professor and Language Program Director in the Department of German at Georgetown University. This article is based on their Presentation at the 1996 MLA convention in Washington, DC.
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